Growing up in North Philadelphia, Jada Hellams was on a first-name basis with struggle. She’d been there, done that and envisioned a better life for herself.
She enrolled in Central Penn College, despite it being in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, because it was affordable. As the first person in her family to attend college, she majored in business, because it was practical. After she fell off the Dean’s List one semester, she was determined to get back on it. “Mind over matter,” she wrote in her notebook.
“She just knew she wanted to be in charge. That was a goal. To be the boss,” recalled Jada’s good friend, Laura Lee. “She wanted better for herself, better for her family — to change the narrative.”
Jada was on the right track. She was finishing her final year of college online due to the COVID-19 pandemic, along with working as a nursing assistant at a charter school. After graduation, she and Laura planned to move to Atlanta for more career and educational opportunities, leaving their violent neighborhood behind.
But Jada never managed to escape Philly. On July 26, 2021, she accompanied a friend to a gathering in Olney. A fight broke out among multiple women, and Jada was stabbed in her neck and kidney. She was pronounced dead one day later at Temple University Hospital.
Police charged 22-year-old Kashmir Jenkins of West Oak Lane, who was pregnant at the time, with murder and aggravated assault, among other charges. Kashmir is out on bail while awaiting trial next year.
Jada’s mother, Malikah Womack, remembers her daughter as hardworking and driven, but also a sensitive soul who was willing to put her own interests on the back burner to motivate others.
“I just want you to go harder, to do everything you can,” Jada urged her mother, whom she called “Mocha.”
Jada Hellams and her mother Malikah Womack
Born on June 2, 2000, Jada was the oldest of her four siblings. She was quite opinionated, even as a baby, throwing her pacifier on the ground in protest, Malikah recalled.
As a child, Jada was often teased because of her dark skin, but Malikah reminded her that she shouldn’t let anyone tear her down. “Just know, in your heart, that you’re beautiful,” she told Jada.
As she grew older, Jada became more comfortable in her own skin. She sold Krispy Kreme doughnuts to fund an eighth grade trip to Puerto Rico and delighted in the new tastes, landscape and culture.
In tenth grade, she brought home her first girlfriend to meet the family. “OK, she’s cute,” Malikah said with full acceptance.
Jada’s father, James Hellams Jr., made sure her needs were met, taking her shopping and visiting with family. James chose Jada’s middle name, Akira, after the Japanese animated action film.
Jada’s grandfather, Robert Womack, helped pay for her student loans and covered her cell phone bill for nearly a decade. After she died, he waited a month to remove his granddaughter’s name from his plan.
Malikah misses singing duets with her daughter to Monica or Lil’ Kim blasting on the car speakers as they drove to Wal-Mart.
Laura, a professional singer, misses her “car parties” with Jada, which involved Laura parking her SUV in the school lot, busting out wine, playing Uno, and rapping to Lil Durk.
“That girl, she can’t sing but she will still do it,” Laura said, laughing.
The two met in college after Jada, an incoming freshman, reached out to Laura on Instagram.
After Jada arrived on campus, she signed up for the women’s basketball team, but was content to sit on the sidelines as team manager. The camaraderie was most important to her, Laura remembered. Jada also became active in the Black Student Union.
Laura and Jada often went to church together and “talked straight” with God.
After one particularly moving service, Laura accidentally swiped another car in the parking lot.
Jada Hellams
“Why you gonna do my girl like that?” an exasperated Jada turned to the heavens.
Jada had a habit of lifting up her friends, reminding them of their accomplishments and advising them not to waste their energy on people who didn’t deserve it.
She always looked flawless, wearing only Blistex and false eyelashes that threatened to poke her eye out, Laura said. She enjoyed luxury brands, such as Tory Burch slides and Off-White sneakers, but was pragmatic about waiting to start a family until she was more financially stable.
“Jada wanted to be something in this life,” Malikah said, adding that her daughter pledged to buy her a house because, she explained jokingly, “I can’t live with you.”
This year, on Jada’s birthday, Laura traveled to Atlanta. On the plane, she began reminiscing about “my sweet Jada, my true friend, my angel,” in her notebook. When she looked out the porthole window, a rainbow had appeared.
Jada is buried at Mount Peace Cemetery in North Philadelphia on top of the grave of her uncle, Michael Hellams, who was murdered in 2003. Malikah is advocating for tougher penalties for violent criminals.
“I can’t explain this pain,” she said. “This pain is beyond this world. This pain is beyond this earth. This pain is beyond this universe. And it’s never going to go away.”
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
